


Play To Win

by renaissance



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack Treated Seriously, Ensemble Cast, Epistolary, Gen, Getting Together, M/M, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 01:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7201055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renaissance/pseuds/renaissance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <br/>
    <i>It’s a barbaric sport. People die playing blasters. Need I remind you that the last blasters tournament at Camelot University ended in sixteen hospitalisations? This wouldn’t have happened if they’d been playing cricket.</i>
    <br/>
  </p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	Play To Win

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aroceu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroceu/gifts).



> Happy birthday Aro, my partner in rhyme! I heard you like jockmance, so an attempt was made. It maybe got out of hand? Special thanks to Carole for the last-minute look-over!
> 
> Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about cricket, and blasters is made-up, taking elements from a game in the anime Shin Sekai Yori, the name of which my subs translated as something like "sports ball." Anyway this is the Merlin sports anime that no-one asked for but which you're all getting anyway. No need to thank me.

**Competitive magic returns to Camelot University**

> Three years after Uther Pendragon was voted out of office and the new President of Albion, Alice George, repealed the laws making magic illegal, an international magical pastime has been restored to common practice. Competitive magic, often referred to as “blasters” by its practitioners, is an ancient sport thought to have originated here in Albion, invented by the very first druids. Today, blasters has been enjoying an underground revival, but had yet to gain mainstream acceptance.
> 
> Dean of Medicine at Camelot University and overseer of the competitive magic programme, Gaius Blessed, has been widely condemned for the move by his many detractors, who claim that blasters is far too dangerous to be encouraged in universities. When reached for comment, Blessed told us, “It is far more sensible to regulate competitive magic than to allow it to remain underground.” Most countries practice some form of competitive magic, and indeed many maintain blasters as a university sport. Blessed aims to have the Camelot University Competitive Magic Society (known as BlastSoc) ready to compete on the world stage by early 2017.
> 
> That goal depends on whether BlastSoc is allowed to remain operational. Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther Pendragon and president of the Camelot University Cricket Society (CUCS), plans to take legal action against the reestablishment of competitive magic. “It’s a barbaric sport,” Pendragon told us in an exclusive interview. “People die playing blasters. Need I remind you that the last blasters tournament at Camelot University, shortly before my father’s presidency, ended in sixteen hospitalisations? This wouldn’t have happened if they’d been playing cricket.”

Excerpt from _The Camelot Herald_ , 14/6/16

 

* * *

 

In the geographical centre of Camelot University’s main campus was a building known as the Castle. It was actually called the Monmouth Building, or E16 on a campus map, but the sculpted stone walls and watchful gargoyles and the ivy, twining from every doorway to every window, had it wanting a much grander name. So the students called it the Castle, and in general, they avoided it altogether. The Castle was more of a symbol than an educational institution. When magic had been outlawed, there was no need for the expansive laboratories and courtyards in the Castle, and it had fallen into a sort of disrepair. The centuries-old stones, held together by magic and hope, began to crumble, and the gargoyles would screech at anyone who got too close.

The Castle was everything that Uther Pendragon had tried to destroy and, as such, it was everything that Merlin Emrys loved.

Now that magic was back and blasters was a legitimate sport, Merlin had set up a practice ground for BlastSoc in the courtyard. “It’s been brought to my attention,” he said, “that most of you have never played blasters before.”

There were some mumbles of assent from the assembled crowd. Well, that was okay, Merlin thought—BlastSoc had only just started up again. They’d get more players when the new year began. It was exam time, and these people were taking time out of their study to be here on this windy June afternoon.

“Have _you_ ever played blasters?” someone asked. One of the few Merlin didn’t recognise.

“Obviously,” Merlin said, impatient. “That’s why I’m president.”

“You’re president because Dean Blessed basically raised you,” Morgana said. “And because you bullied him into starting a blasters club.”

Ah, Morgana. Such a vocal supporter of magic. So vocal, in general. Sometimes that worked in Merlin’s favour—most of the time, it didn’t.

“Thank you for your input,” he said. “Does anyone else have anything to add before we get started?”

Another student Merlin didn’t recognise stuck up a hand, half the way they could probably raise it. Merlin sighed. “Yes?”

“Um,” the student said, “why do we have to come here to do it? This place is creepy as shit.”

It was a reasonable question—or rather, it was reasonable to call the Castle “creepy as shit.” It just so happened that Merlin and maybe five of his friends were the only people who thought that was a charming selling point, rather than something that necessitated a KEEP OUT sign and maybe a roll of police tape.

“I can answer that,” Morgana said, sparing a pitying look for Merlin. “The Castle is the only building on campus made with magic. Anywhere else and we’d rip it to shreds by the end of a match.”

“Right,” Merlin agreed. He tried to find his steam again. “The foundations of the Castle are designed for blasters. It’s probable that this was where the first blasters players came together, maybe even where it was invented. This is our homeground.”

“Although I wouldn’t mind seeing some places on campus getting ripped to shreds,” Morgana commented.

“Like the cricket grounds,” her friend Morgause said.

They laughed, heads tilted together conspiratorially, and Merlin forced himself to look away. He agreed, of course, but it would do no good for the president of BlastSoc to support violence against any other group on campus. No matter how much he wanted to kick Arthur Pendragon square in the—

“That makes sense,” the curious student said, cutting through Merlin’s train of thought. “Sorry for interrupting you.”

“It’s fine,” Merlin said. Deep breaths. “So, blasters. As you can probably see from how we’re set up, you play blasters in any clearly demarcated field. There’s no regulated size, which can make competitions interesting, but don’t worry about that for now. The game begins with a coin toss to see which player—or team, if you’re playing the team variant, but I’ll get to that later—which player starts first. The winner of the toss is given the ball, and they have to try to get it between the other player’s goalposts. The loser has to keep the ball in their opponent’s—”

“ _Merlin_!”

Mouth half open, Merlin’s body was slow on the uptake—a second later, he turned to see Gwen coming down the steps into the courtyard, waving some sort of stack of papers. “What’s up?” Merlin asked. “You’re late.”

“Yes, I know that,” Gwen said, brushing Merlin off and waving an issue of _The Camelot Herald_ in his face. “Have you seen yesterday’s paper?”

“… no? Should I be worried?”

Gwen shook her head. “It’s Pendragon—er, Arthur—stirring up trouble. Again. He’s given them an interview on the blasters controversy.”

“There’s no controversy,” Merlin said, but he accepted the paper anyway, skimming the article. “Blasters was legalised along with magic… as far as… I’m concerned…”

Standing on her toes, Gwen peered over the edge of the newspaper. “Merlin?”

Merlin closed his eyes, kept his lips pressed in a straight line. He breathed in through his nose.

Morgana came over too, then Morgause, then Mordred, Freya, Nimueh, Edwin, Kara, the students he didn’t know—the whole team clustered around him, witness to his frustration. He took another deep breath. He could do this.

He also needed to scream, though. “Fucking Pendragon!” he snapped, and, in deference to Morgana, added, “Er, Arthur.”

“No offence taken,” Morgana said.

“This is slander,” Merlin said. “Morgana, you study law. Tell me this is slander.”

Morgana shrugged, indicating just how much she cared.

Someone else took the newspaper from him, leaving Merlin free to rake his fingers down his face. “Urgh. We can’t just let this go unanswered.”

“So write a letter to Castle Talk,” Mordred said.

“A strongly worded letter,” Merlin said, testing the idea. “Yeah. That could work.”

 

* * *

 

An Open Letter from Merlin Emrys, President of the Camelot University Competitive Magic Society, to Arthur F. Pendragon, President of the Camelot University Cricket Society:

> While you play cricket, Mr. Pendragon, the rest of the students at Camelot University are preparing for their end-of-year examinations. Of course, as a postgraduate research student, you wouldn’t know about that, would you? I’m sure not much of the university culture manages to penetrate your position of privilege.
> 
> While you play cricket, the syllabus for a new Bachelor of Magic is being drafted, to allow students the opportunity to once again study magic—a right, I would remind you, which was taken away by your own father. Haven’t you made enough of a mark on Camelot University already? Why is it that you wish us to suffer more?
> 
> The Camelot University Competitive Magic Society politely requests that you retract your threatened legal action against us. We are prepared to fight any obstacles in our way, as is the tradition of blasters players, but we do not want it to come to that. We would prepare to solve this dispute civilly. The choice is yours to take up that offer, and the consequences will be yours to face.
> 
> Respectfully,
> 
> BlastSoc

Published in _Castle Talk_ , the Camelot University weekly student publication, 20-24/6/16

 

* * *

 

A good fifteen minute walk from the Castle, at the far end of campus, stood the Camelot University Cricket Grounds. Like every good university, Camelot had a strong tradition of cricket, and it had an even stronger tradition of beating every other university at cricket, of being the jewel in the crown, so to speak. The pride and joy. The recipient of most of the union’s funding.

And if Arthur Pendragon had his say, that was how it would stay.

The sun was out in full force, the grass was blindingly green, and Arthur’s water bottle was offensively empty. He wiped his cap across his forehead, but it felt like he was only replacing sweat with more sweat. A futility. Taking one last look at the pitch, he went back to the stands, to the shade, where his team was waiting.

Although Arthur wasn’t their captain anymore, he was still their president, and he still thought of them as _his_ team. Perhaps that was selfish, but he spent most of his spare time looking out for their wellbeing, so really it would’ve been their own problem if any of them didn’t look up to him. Thankfully, all of them _did_ look up to him—and who wouldn’t?

“Alright, team,” he said. “That’s practice for today.”

“Oh good, you caught on,” Gwaine said. “The rest of us have been finished for at least half an hour.”

“Very funny,” Arthur said, unsmiling. “As the flagship sports club at this university, you should all—”

“—behave responsibly and practice consistently,” Lance interrupted. “Yes, we’ve heard your talk.”

Arthur was used to this routine—he would start an encouraging speech, someone on the team would finish it for him, everyone would laugh, and he would laugh along, because that was what good leaders did. Not today, though. It was too hot for patience.

His attention was caught by Elyan, reading the latest _Castle Talk_. Of course, Arthur never read _Castle Talk_ anymore. These days it was all pro-magic propaganda and crosswords with incorrectly-labelled clues. Arthur was against it on principle, but whatever Elyan was reading made him laugh out loud, and if there was one thing Arthur hated more than _Castle Talk_ , it was being out of the loop on a joke.

“What’s so funny?”

Elyan immediately sobered. “It’s not so much funny as, uh—”

“Not funny at all,” Gwaine agreed, reading over his shoulder. “The very opposite of funny.”

“You should probably read it, Arthur,” Elyan said.

Taking the newsletter from him, Arthur found it open to the letters page.

“Gwen showed it to me,” Elyan said. “She had to help Merlin edit it. Apparently the original version was much less kind.”

“Why is there an F in my name?” Arthur tilted the paper sideways as though the F might disappear if he looked at it from another angle. “I don’t even have a middle name! Gwen should know that!”

Elyan raised an eyebrow. “ _That’s_ what you’re taking away from it?”

“I stopped reading,” Arthur said. “I haven’t got any time for the sort of nonsense that fool Emrys is peddling.”

“That’s  your sister’s best friend you’re talking about,” Lance said. “Careful what you say about him. He could _curse_ you.”

Actually, Morgana’s best friend was her black nail polish, and Merlin was _Gwen’s_ best friend. So Lance was watching himself around Gwen because he was nursing some sort of crush on her, but Gwen was not only Elyan’s sister, she was Arthur’s ex. The cricket society’s connections to BlastSoc were more messy than Arthur liked to acknowledge.

“Well, we have to do _something_ about it,” Percy said.

He was sitting on one of the other bleachers in the stands, tossing a cricket ball up and down, a fly buzzing next to his ear. It was such a forlorn picture that Arthur felt they really _did_ have to do something. But, no—there was no need to let this blow up. That wasn’t Arthur’s way. He was simple, efficient, by the book. That way, he could get away with being vicious under a veneer of politeness. He found that, more often than not, crude language and easy insults got you nowhere.

That wasn’t so easy where Merlin was concerned.

“Ooh, I’ve got a text from Merlin,” Gwaine said, lifting his phone out of the sun’s path, squinting to read the screen. “He wants to know if I’m up for beer.”

Arthur grimaced. “With _them_?”

“We could all go,” Gwaine suggested. “Make a show of it. See what our societies are really made of.”

Gwaine was just stirring shit. By all rights, Arthur shouldn’t have been baited. He knew that Gwaine was another magic sympathiser in his midst, not really taking a side. And yet, and yet.

“It’s high noon,” Arthur said.

Percy cleared his throat. “It’s nearly six.”

“It’s a turn of phrase,” Arthur said. “Let’s meet them when they’re at their weakest.”

 

* * *

 

An Open Letter from Sir Merlin Emrys, Esq., President of the Camelot University Competitive Magic Society, to Arthur F. Pendragon, wherein the F. stands for Fucking Tool, President of the Camelot University Cricket Society:

> While you play cricket, you insufferable prat, the rest of us proles at Camelot University are preparing for our end-of-year exams. Of course, as a ponce in an ivory tower, you wouldn’t know about that, would you? I’m sure not much of the real world manages to penetrate your thick skull.
> 
> While you play cricket, the syllabus for a new Bachelor of Magic is being drafted, to let us actually, properly study magic—a right, I would remind you, which was taken away by your prize dickhead father, and which _I_ missed out on. Haven’t you taken enough of a massive shit on Camelot University already? Seriously, who hurt you?
> 
> The Camelot University Competitive Magic Society politely requests that you pull that rod out of your arse and get off our case. We’re prepared to fight any obstacles in our way, since we’re blasters players and blasting is what we do. If I wanted to be a boring twat, then I’d play cricket. And if you’re not going to be civil, we aren’t either. As we say in the world of sport, “the ball is in your court.”
> 
> Go fuck yourself,
> 
> BlastSoc

Unpublished draft of a letter to _Castle Talk_ , 15/6/16

 

* * *

 

One hand on his hip, the other held up to shield his eyes from the sun, Merlin felt like a general surveying the field of his next conquest. This would be one for the history books.

Of course, it was only the tables outside the campus bar, but that couldn’t be helped. The sun was setting, casting the white plastic tables in a dim yellow light. A few birds prowled the ground, picking at scraps. Behind Merlin stood his team. Ahead of him, the cricket team.

There were a lot of things Merlin hated about the Camelot University Cricket Society, chief among them Arthur Pendragon. When Merlin was in first year, Gwen—his oldest friend, his _best_ friend—had put forward an alarming display of bad taste and gone on the best part of three dates with Arthur. It didn’t amount to anything, but that wasn’t the point. Arthur had broken Gwen’s heart just by being himself, a dickhead, and Merlin had never forgiven him.

And there was the fact that Arthur’s father had banned magic in Camelot soon after Merlin was born. There was that. That was enough bad blood for a lifetime of resentment.

Merlin would make the first move. He lifted a foot onto the closest chair, because that was definitely something he’d seen in oil paintings of battle commanders. “Not too cowardly to face us, Pendragon?” he called.

Across four rows of tables, Arthur pushed his designer sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose. “What, and back away from a challenge? Unlikely, Emrys.”

“Here, now, let’s fight it out,” Merlin said. He amplified his voice with a bit of magic—that’d show them.

“If you’re trying to prove that blasters is superior to cricket, you’ve already lost,” Arthur said. “We have the history to back that up.”

Merlin heard laughter behind him. He didn’t think he needed to add anything to that, except, “Then prove it.”

Arthur raised a cricket bat. In eerie unison, his team followed the motion. At least Elyan, bless him, lagged behind a little. “Don’t go easy on us, _Merlin_.”

So it was to be war. Merlin turned over his shoulder to address his team, only to find that half of them had already conjured some sort of missile. Mordred had some unassuming but brutal ball bearings rotating above his fingers. Morgana had thorny vines curling around her hands, ready to launch. Gwen was grinning, a spell on her fingertips and aiming right for her brother.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Merlin said.

There was no whistle from a referee in blasters—actually, maybe they didn’t have that in cricket either; Merlin wouldn’t know. Instead, once the coin toss had been won, the game had begun. Merlin ducked his head to let the barrage begin, watching as Gwen formed her spell into a flurry of leaves. She was always best at defensive, obstructive magic. Good in the team variant of blasters, not so much on her own. Morgana, on the other hand, had wrapped her vines around—Leon?—Leon’s bat, twisting them until it snapped in two. She worked better alone.

A few of the cricket players were doing a valiant job of knocking away Mordred’s ballistics—which was funny, because Merlin thought one of them might actually have been called Valiant—but it was a pointless fight. Wooden bats and knee guards were no match for magic.

When it was clear they had the advantage, Merlin jumped over the table into no man’s land. He could have walked around the table, but it wouldn’t have been half as dramatic. He used a bit of magic to propel himself over the next table, right into Arthur’s path.

The problem with Arthur Pendragon—the big, glaring issue—was that, despite all his faults, he was _hot_ up close. As Merlin forded another table, Arthur’s stupid handsome face came into clear detail. Merlin threw up a glamour to obscure him. Not today, hormones.

“Bringing the fight to the source?” Arthur said, a clear taunt. “I’d like to see you try.”

Well, how could he possibly refuse? Merlin focused all of his magic into his fingertips, felt the heat around his eyes as he cast a spell, and grabbed Arthur’s cricket bat mid-swing.

When their eyes met, Arthur’s face was questioning: _Is that it?_

So Merlin turned his bat to ice, and didn’t wait around in close quarters to hear Arthur’s yells as the frost reached his fingers. What he hadn’t counted on was that cricketers could throw, and within seconds there were shards of freezing cold headed straight for his face. Somewhere to his left, he heard Morgana roaring as she cast something that felt illegal. If Merlin played a little dirtier, just for a while, surely no-one would notice—

 

* * *

 

**From:** CSU President (studentunionpres@camelot.ac.al)

**To:** Merlin Emrys (34756902@camelot.ac.al); Arthur Pendragon (a.pendragon@arts.camelot.ac.al)

**Cc:** Gaius Blessed (gaius@medicine.camelot.ac.al)

**Subject:** Re: BlastSoc/CUCS Dispute

Hi all,

Thanks for keeping us updated on the nature of your dispute. In light of the brawl the other day, there have been a lot of questions asked, and we want to solve this as quickly and painlessly as possible. We’re keen to avoid legal action, given it’s summer and the union is shutting down until the next academic year. With that in mind, we would appreciate it if you could sort this out between yourselves before the summer is over. I’ve noticed that both societies have budgeted for summer training camps; the costs could be greatly reduced if you combined your training camps in one venue. This would be a good opportunity for you to work through your differences!

Best,

Kilgharrah

* * *

**From:** Gaius Blessed (gaius@medicine.camelot.ac.al)

**To:** CSU President (studentunionpres@camelot.ac.al); Merlin Emrys (34756902@camelot.ac.al); Arthur Pendragon (a.pendragon@arts.camelot.ac.al)

**Subject:** Re: BlastSoc/CUCS Dispute

Dear all,

Excellent idea! I’m sure Merlin and Arthur will be more than happy to organise this.

Kind regards,

Gaius

* * *

**From:** Arthur Pendragon (a.pendragon@arts.camelot.ac.al)

**To:** Gaius Blessed (gaius@medicine.camelot.ac.al); CSU President (studentunionpres@camelot.ac.al); Merlin Emrys (34756902@camelot.ac.al)

**Subject:** Re: BlastSoc/CUCS Dispute

Fucking unbelievable

* * *

**From:** Arthur Pendragon (a.pendragon@arts.camelot.ac.al)

**To:** Gaius Blessed (gaius@medicine.camelot.ac.al); CSU President (studentunionpres@camelot.ac.al); Merlin Emrys (34756902@camelot.ac.al)

**Subject:** Re: BlastSoc/CUCS Dispute

Apologies, I replied to the wrong email. Of course I would be happy to discuss the terms of a joint training camp with Mr. Emrys. I will keep you both in the loop with negotiations.

A. Pendragon

 

* * *

 

It was still summer, still sweltering, so Arthur didn’t pack much. A few changes of clothes, enough money for whatever laundry facilities they had at the camping ground. His cricket bat.

To say he wasn’t looking forward to training camp was an understatement. He liked the idea of it about as much as he liked the idea of someone putting a red sock in the wash with his cricket whites. For once, being diplomatic had failed him. He had been polite. He had been obliging. And he had ended up with a union-mandated get-along trip, three weeks in tents alongside _the enemy_.

The drive to the camping ground felt a thousand years long. He had Morgana in the passenger seat, taking control of the CD player, because “you have to keep your eyes on the road, Arthur.” This meant 2003 emo, which Morgana probably didn’t even like anymore—she just kept it on a mixtape with the express purpose of pissing Arthur off at any opportunity.

“You must really hate me,” Arthur said, pulling down the long, winding drive that led to the Forest of Balor.

“What would make you think that?”

He could hear the smug smile in her voice, even with his eyes on the road. “How do I know this entire camp isn’t some scheme of yours?”

This time, Morgana deigned to laugh at him. “What would I _possibly_ be scheming for? _I_ don’t care if you sue BlastSoc. Illegal blasters is much more fun, anyway.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Arthur said.

The camping ground came into view between a thicket of trees—just a few quaint old buildings and row upon row of tents. There were already lots of cars lining the drive, parked wherever they could find space, and cricket and blasters players alike beginning to arrive. Arthur knew he wasn’t the only cricket player with a sorcerer in tow. Elyan would be arriving with Gwen, and they were on much better terms than Arthur and Morgana. If you blurred your eyes, it was almost like the two societies were already getting on with each other.

“Look at it this way,” Morgana said. “At least you don’t have to stay in the tent next to mine.”

“At least,” Arthur said, frowning. Who _would_ he be camping near? As president, really he ought to have decided on the sleeping plan, but Mordred had been so keen on coming up with a spell to allocate it randomly, and Arthur could never say no to enthusiasm.

The tent allocations were posted to a tree, held in place with an arrow. There, right next to _Arthur Pendragon_ , was _Merlin Emrys_.

“There is _nothing_ random about this,” Arthur snapped, ripping the arrow out of the tree. The paper bearing the allocations stayed stubbornly in place. “Someone has done this on purpose, to force us to _co-operate_.”

“I’m pretty sure it was magic,” Morgana said, running a fingertip down the list until she found her name in between Gwen and Morgause. That good luck could _not_ have been random.

Arthur had Percy on his other side, but he wasn’t counting small mercies. He was past that. He stormed to the tents, bag knocking against his back as he went, to find his—no, to find _Merlin’s_ tent, and kick at the posts until the whole damn thing fell to the ground.

“You really think that’s going to work?” Merlin said, sticking his head through his tent doors. “I’ve already reinforced this with magic. I could do the same to yours, if you’d like.”

“Oh, piss off,” Arthur said. And, composing himself, added, “I don’t need magic to keep me alive.”

“I’d hardly die if a tent fell on my head,” Merlin said.

“One can dream,” Arthur muttered.

Merlin climbed fully out of his tent, looking Arthur up and down. “Since you’re here, we might as well talk schedule.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Arthur asked. He was tired from driving and impatient to the point of irritation. There was only so much Merlin he could take. “We’re just here to train.”

“And to reconcile our differences.” Merlin pulled a face. “Look, I don’t like it either, but if we don’t have some sort of statement prepared for the union we’re _both_ done for. We should pencil in a few, er, _bonding_ activities.”

Arthur sighed. “Like what?”

 

* * *

 

**Having a blast: Student shenanigans interrupt annual Albion CEO sleepout**

> This weekend, CEOs of Albion’s top businesses gathered together to sleep rough in the Forest of Balor to raise money for homelessness awareness campaigns. The event didn’t last as long as planned, however, when stray magic from a nearby game of blasters sent a plague of locusts onto the sleepout campsite. _The Camelot Herald_ has been informed that the plague was cast by Morgause Gorlois, a member of the Camelot University Competitive Magic Society (BlastSoc). It is understood that she has been temporarily suspended from the society.
> 
> BlastSoc is currently conducting a joint training camp with the Camelot University Cricket Society (CUCS) in an attempt to reconcile differences between the two societies. Questions have been raised, however, whether the Forest of Balor was an appropriate site for this dispute to play out. “This makes a mockery of everything our country stands for,” tweeted former President of Albion, Uther Pendragon (@PendragonPres). “Proper precautions must be taken to ensure magic does not get out of hand again.”
> 
> The president of BlastSoc, Merlin Emrys, told _The Camelot Herald_ that the society would be restricting the zone of magical activity while the training camp takes place in the forest. “We’re doing our best to keep it safe,” Emrys assured us. “You have to understand, even when things like this happen, blasters isn’t a harmful sport. There are rules against spells that last longer than twelve hours. Those locusts will be out of everyone’s hair in no time.”
> 
> Some sources disagree, however, on whether this spell was part of a game of blasters, or whether it was aimed at members of the cricket team.

Excerpt from _The Camelot Herald_ , 7/7/16

 

* * *

 

Merlin waited around the gates until Morgause’s car was out of eyesight. _Then_ he let out the breath he’d been holding. The locusts had been an inspired move—more like Gwen’s magic, really, but it had done the trick, and the plague had carried the ball all the way to the opposite side of their makeshift court, shrouded by a buzzing cloud. Pity about the CEOs. Merlin would have to write a formal note of apology.

Still, that was yesterday, and today was another day. They’d keep training without Morgause, and they’d show the cricket team who was really stronger.

When Merlin got back to the camping ground, he found everyone in the hall for their afternoon bonding activity. The last one, practice on adjacent grounds, hadn’t gone down so well. Merlin and Arthur had spent the morning brainstorming, and they’d decided that maybe sport wasn’t the best way to bridge the chasm between their teams. Merlin had suggested that maybe Arthur just retract his lawsuit, but that hadn’t gone down so well. So it was to be arts and crafts.

After the fiasco with the charity, Gaius had sent Merlin and Arthur an email suggesting they do something to make up for it. Donating to another charity seemed like a good idea, and somehow a phonecall back to Gaius had ended in the idea that they make cards for a children’s charity. Gwen had driven back to civilisation that morning to pick up supplies, and now the benches in the main hall at the camping ground were covered with feathers, glitter glue, and stickers.

“This is hell,” Morgana said, hanging back by the door as Merlin came into the hall. “This is hell on earth.”

“Oh, calm down,” Merlin said. “It’s just a bit of fun. Go play with some glitter.”

“We’re uni students,” she protested. “This is so twenty years ago.”

To an extent, Merlin agreed, but he also liked the feeling that he was doing something good, something worthwhile to other people. He forged past Morgana’s negativity and found himself a place next to Gwen at one of the tables.

“How’s it going?”

Gwen was in her element. The card before her had an intricate feathered phoenix design on it. “Oh, you know,” she said, “alright.”

“I should make something magical too,” Merlin said, picking up a green feather. “How about a tree?”

From further down the table came Arthur’s voice: “You should keep your druid propaganda away from innocent children.”

Merlin snorted, laughing so hard he began coughing. “I’m sorry, since when are trees _druid propaganda_?”

“Since you decided to send magical messages to children,” Arthur said. He must have been so offended by it, since he got up from his seat and moved to take the place across from Merlin, pushing Lancelot to one side. And he had a smudge of glitter glue on his cheek, which Merlin found strangely—endearing? No, that wasn’t a word that could be used to describe Arthur. But there was definitely _something_ about it.

Pushing that thought to one side, Merlin levelled Arthur with his best glare. “It’s just a tree.”

“It’s the intent,” Arthur said, leaning across the table and brandishing a feather at Merlin. “You said it was going to be a _magical_ tree.”

“Well, yes,” Merlin said, “because I’m a sorcerer. I don’t see anything wrong with that. Magic isn’t illegal anymore, in case you’d forgotten.”

“No, you’re certain to remind me at any opportunity you get,” Arthur said.

Gwen reached in between them, waving her hands about. “Boys, please. Let’s not fight over this. Don’t forget that the whole point of this camp is to foster friendship and—”

“He started it!” Arthur interjected.

Merlin had to stop himself from screaming. “Oh my god, are you determined to be a baby about this? I have been trying my best, Pendragon. But apparently all you care about is your fucking _lawsuit_.”

“I care about _safety_ and _equality_ ,” Arthur said, which was probably the biggest lie Merlin had ever heard. “Blasters is dangerous and unfair. Maybe you should try playing cricket to see what a _real_ sport is like.”

Climbing up onto the bench, Merlin grabbed a fistful of feathers and shoved them in Arthur’s face. “I’ll be dead in the ground before I play a game of cricket!”

“Then I’ll see you in hell!” Arthur shouted back.

If Morgana was right, Merlin thought bitterly, they were already there.

 

* * *

 

**From:** Merlin Emrys (34756902@camelot.ac.al)

**To:** Gaius Blessed (gaius@medicine.camelot.ac.al)

**Subject:** im a celebrity get me out of here!!!

gaius im needing help badly, training camp is awful and it needs to end. morale is low, the team is weary… above all else sick as shit of dealing with CUCS… theyre very good at what they do and some of them are even quite nice but pendragon is still being a prat about… about what? idk what it is but i think he needs to give it up. cant u pull some strings with the union, maybe play up the locust thing if thats what it takes? we just really need this to end.

merlin

* * *

**From:** Gaius Blessed (gaius@medicine.camelot.ac.al)

**To:** Merlin Emrys (34756902@camelot.ac.al)

**Subject:** Re: im a celebrity get me out of here!!!

Hang in there, Merlin! It’s just a few weeks longer and you’ll be home to relax for the rest of the summer break. If you’re finding some of the cricket players to be friendly, then that’s a good start! Why don’t you spend a little more time with them and try to ignore Arthur as best you can? I know you two have history, but do try to put that aside for the sake of clearing the waters between your societies.

All the best,

Gaius

P.S.: You might not want to use your university email for messages like this. Just an idea! ;-)

 

* * *

 

Leon found Arthur sulking. He wasn’t proud, and he didn’t like to think of himself as a sulker in general, but sometimes Arthur just needed to get away from everyone and everything and sit around feeling sorry for himself. He had enough on his plate at the best of times. This training camp was, indisputably, the worst of times.

“What’s up, man?” Leon asked, inviting himself to sit down beside Arthur. “You’re still down over fighting with Merlin?”

“I’m fine,” Arthur said, jaw clenched. He tried not to think about how most of his team were on first name basis with the blasters team now.

“It was days ago,” Leon said, ignoring him. “I’m sure Merlin is over it by now. Why don’t you two talk it out?”

“I don’t want to _talk it out_ ,” Arthur snapped. “I want this stupid bloody training camp to be over so we can all go home and get on with our lives.”

Leon sighed. “You know he’s not going to give up on this until you retract the lawsuit.”

“And I’m not going to give up, full stop,” Arthur said. “So it seems we’ve reached an impasse.”

“Or, you could suck it up and talk it out,” Leon said.

When Arthur turned to him, mouth open and primed for an insult, he found Leon grinning. “What could you _possibly_ find funny about this?”

“Ah,” Leon said, “you and Merlin are more similar than you like to think. You’re both so stubborn.”

“The difference,” Arthur said, “is that I’m _right_.”

“Try telling him that.”

Arthur _had_ tried, he’d been trying this entire time to communicate to Merlin just how right he was, and what a bad idea a blasters society was. It went beyond Arthur’s grudge against magic. He couldn’t hate it _that_ much, not when his own sister was a sorcerer. And while he told himself it was about safety, that was really just a convenient excuse. It was about the cricket society’s position in the limelight. There was no way a sport as flashy as blasters would leave room for something as traditional as cricket, not once it inevitably became popular again. There was no room for both societies in Camelot University.

“Try telling him _everything_ ,” Leon added.

His mouth twisting into a frown, Arthur got to his feet. “I’ll try,” he said. One last time.

The walk back to the tents was like a walk of shame. There was no-one there but Leon to witness it, but the shame was very real. Arthur had to kneel a bit to get into Merlin’s tent. Embarrassing.

“Come to apologise?” Merlin asked.

“I’ll apologise when you apologise,” Arthur said. “I’ve come to compromise.”

Merlin looked fidgety, uncomfortable. “I’ve been thinking about a compromise too.”

“Oh?” If Merlin made a good offer, that would save Arthur a world of trouble, especially given he hadn’t considered what _his_ compromise would be.

“Yeah,” Merlin said. “The other day, when I said I’d never play cricket—I meant that, alright? But I had an idea… I thought, maybe, we could work out a way to merge blasters and cricket? I reckon our teams would get closer if we were playing the same sport.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “I like it in principle,” he said, “but in practice… playing on the same field as dangerous magic—”

“I keep saying, blasters isn’t dangerous!”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Arthur said.

“Okay,” Merlin said. “Let me work out a way we can play blaster cricket. I’ll show you. If it works, you retract your lawsuit. If it doesn’t, feel free to sue me for all I’m worth.”

When a sorcerer cast a spell, their eyes flashed with the energy of the magic they were making. Arthur could have sworn, in that moment, that he saw Merlin’s eyes come alight with amber. He bit the inside of his cheek. There was something about that raw passion, the determination that really was so like his own, that was powerfully attractive to Arthur.

_Attractive_? Oh _no_.

“Deal,” Arthur said. Anything to get him out of that bloody tent.

 

* * *

 

(23:47) Arthur: Shit shit shit shit shit

(23:48) Gwen: ???

(23:48) Arthur: Merlin

(23:49) Gwen: What about him? Arthur, stop texting, go to sleep.

(23:50) Arthur: Wide awake. Not impressed with myself

(23:50) Gwen: You’re going to have to explain.

(00:45) Arthur: Merlin? Is really good looking???

(00:46) Gwen: Omg you woke me up for this!

(00:46) Arthur: It’s a serious question

(00:48) Gwen: It’s not a question.

(00:48) Gwen: It’s a realisation. Omg. I’m laughing so hard.

(00:49) Arthur: What

(00:49) Gwen: Go to sleep.

* * *

(23:51) Merlin: dude gwen im in trouble

(23:51) Gwen: ???

(23:52) Merlin: mnmgnmfgmng

(23:52) Merlin: so like?????

(23:52) Merlin: i think i fancy pendragon????????

(23:53) Gwen: …

(23:53) Merlin: what

(23:53) Gwen: Go to sleep, omg.

(23:53) Merlin: yeah

(23:54) Merlin: yeah ur right

(23:54) Merlin: ok night gwen

 

* * *

 

Merlin was absolutely losing his mind. Ever since he and Arthur had come to an agreement—a rash, rushed agreement, which could only go wrong—Merlin had been fixating on the way Arthur had looked in the dim light of the tent, the conviction in his eyes. It was a misguided conviction, but _damn_ he wore it well.

Still, there was no time to dwell on it. They had a game of blaster cricket to play.

It worked like this: each team divided in two, half a cricket team and a group of blasters players working together. The coin toss went ahead as normal, and the winning team’s cricket players began by batting a ball into the losing team’s court. The ball could be repelled with bats or with magic, but instead of simply getting the ball through a pair of arbitrary goalposts, they had to knock down a very precise wicket. The field they chose was ringed with tall, protective trees, and far enough away from any public parts of the forest that there was no way anything could go wrong.

Arthur had drawn a line at being on the same team as Merlin, so they were on opposite sides. But Merlin had a good cricket strength with him, including Gwaine, Lance, and Leon, who he was getting to know well. He had Morgana too, and Edwin and Freya, and he was primed to win.

“I’m cautiously optimistic,” Morgana said. “I think this might just work, Merlin.”

“It had better fucking work,” Merlin said. “If it doesn’t, we’re all getting sued. Arthur will make good on that threat, you know he will.”

Morgana shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I can’t sue him back,” she said, grinning.

Merlin hoped like hell it wouldn’t come to that.

He stepped forward for the coin toss. As presidents, Merlin and Arthur met in the middle to represent not just their teams, but their sports.

One of the new blasters recruits, acting as referee to make up the numbers, held the coin between her fingers. “Ready?” she asked.

Arthur, blinding in his cricket whites, ignored her. “This is it, Merlin. Ready to lose?”

“Ready to watch you lose,” Merlin said. “I call heads.”

The coin spun in the air, and for a moment it seemed like it hung between them. Merlin saw the head on the coin as though it was staring straight at him—which was absurd, because it was a profile, but there was something in that moment that caught his imagination. He was so distracted that he almost missed the coin’s landing.

“It’s tails,” the referee said. “Team Pendragon is pitching.”

“Oh, _pitching_ ,” Merlin said, “is that what you cricketers call it?”

In an astounding display of immaturity, Arthur pulled an ugly face at Merlin. He was still hot, and Merlin was still furious about it.

“We call it victory,” Arthur said, and turned his back to run towards his teammates.

Merlin did the same. “Ready?”

They weren’t ready. They were playing an invented sport for the first time ever, and things were always going to take a while to sort out. Arthur’s first pitch was ruled invalid because he aimed for Merlin’s face—a no-go in blasters rules—and Elyan took the second, which made it uncomfortably close to the wicket. After that, Merlin focused more on defence and let Morgana take care of distracting the other team—but it turned out that starting fires on your opponents’ knee pads was illegal in cricket.

And, where possible, Merlin liked to play a fair game. He was proving a point, after all.

Not everyone on his team seemed to think the same. Edwin managed to pull off a switching spell which left Arthur stranded high up in one of the trees surrounding the field, and an oak branch holding his cricket bat.

Morgana could barely contain herself. “Hah! My lofty brother, high and mighty at last!”

“This would be funny,” Arthur shouted, “if I weren’t caught in a bloody tree!”

The referee blew her whistle and the game paused as Gwen began a spell to turn the outer bark of a tree into a staircase for Arthur—Edwin was laughing with Morgana, laughing too hard to reverse what he’d done. But before Gwen’s spell was ready, Arthur lost his footing. Merlin watched horrified, entranced, as Arthur fell from the tree and began plummeting towards the ground.

Everyone seemed to be watching—it took too long for Merlin’s reflexes to kick in, but when they did, he found himself casting a spell to slow Arthur’s fall. It was quick, sloppy magic, and he heard Arthur fall to the ground with a horrible crunching sound. But he was alive, he had to be alive.

It was a relief, a second later, to hear Arthur calling his name, like music to his ears. “MERLIN, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”

 

* * *

 

**“No-one was surprised”: Injury strikes blasters and cricket collaboration**

> Already marred by scandal, the joint training camp between Camelot University’s Competitive Magic Society and Cricket Society has ended in tragedy, with Cricket Society president Arthur Pendragon suffering a broken leg after falling 50 feet from a tree. In a statement issued by the Camelot University Student Union, it is claimed that Pendragon was injured during an invented game, dubbed “blaster cricket.”
> 
> “It was an unholy merger of the magical and the mundane,” recounted one eyewitness. However, it was lucky magic was present—blasters player Merlin Emrys was able to save Pendragon from more serious harm by slowing his fall. “Nevertheless,” said our eyewitness, “something like this was bound to happen. No-one was surprised, what with the way the camp had been going.”
> 
> Despite the animosity between the blasters and cricket players, Pendragon has refused to lay the blame on any party. “If it weren’t for Merlin, I would have died,” he told us while recuperating in Camelot Central Hospital. “I maintain that blasters is a ludicrous excuse for a sport, but magic has its place in society, and I cannot reasonably speak out against that.”

Excerpt from _The Camelot Herald_ , 21/7/16

 

* * *

 

Hospital was painfully boring, more painful than a broken leg. Arthur was on forced bed rest to recover from his injuries—which, really, he’d suffered worse than a broken leg and a few scrapes. His father was insistent, though, and he’d gone as far as to call the student union and demand that they cease funding any joint CUCS-BlastSoc activities immediately.

There was one bright side: technically, blaster cricket had failed, so Arthur was free to sue BlastSoc for as much as he could get, plus his broken leg.

That, and Merlin came to visit as often as he could manage. Arthur liked that more than he would admit. He liked Merlin more than he would admit. He liked Merlin.

“You’re lucky I like you,” Merlin said one afternoon, sitting in the visitor’s chair with a copy of _The Camelot Herald_. “This interview—this is slander.”

“Libel,” Arthur corrected. “Slander is speech, libel is print.”

“Whatever,” Merlin said. “I don’t want to argue the fine print. You said here you’ll forgive magic—which, alright, _thanks_ —but you’re still planning on suing BlastSoc?”

“Of course,” Arthur said. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t. We made a deal, and you lost. That means I can sue.”

“I mean, you _could_ ,” Merlin said, “or you could let me make it up to you some other way.”

Arthur let out a laugh. “I doubt you could afford to pay me enough to cover all your negligence.”

Merlin shrugged. “You’re right. But I could take you out to dinner a few times, see where that goes…”

He trailed off, but Arthur wasn’t done with that sentence yet. “See where _what_ goes?” he demanded.

“You and I out to dinner,” Merlin said, his words coming out quickly. “Was that not clear enough?” When Arthur didn’t reply, he added, “Evidently not.”

Arthur could only stare dumbly as Merlin hoisted himself onto the edge of the hospital bed and, supporting himself on one knee, crowded right up in Arthur’s face. “So help me, Arthur,” Merlin said, “I’ve tried ignoring it. I’ve tried fighting with you, I’ve tried playing nice with you. I’m thinking we work somewhere best in between that.”

“Nice fighting?” Arthur tried. He felt like all his critical faculties had deserted him. Merlin was very close to him.

“That’s a good summary of dating,” Merlin said, and before Arthur could respond, Merlin kissed him. Merlin kissed him like he meant business.

“If you think,” Arthur began, talking into Merlin’s lips, “that I’m going to hold off on the lawsuit just because of this…”

“You can’t sue someone you’re dating,” Merlin said. “I’m pretty sure there’s a law against that.”

“I’m pretty sure you don’t know anything about law,” Arthur said. “And who exactly said you could date me?”

Merlin put a hand to his chest, pulling back a bit. “I did?”

It seemed like all they did was disagree, but for once, Arthur couldn’t bring himself to quibble over the details. He was on the same side as Merlin—what next? Hell freezing over? A blue moon in the sky?

“Alright,” Arthur said, “I can’t argue with that.”

Oh, right—apparently they were dating, now.

 

* * *

 

**Spotted On Campus: Week 2**

> A new semester, and a new campus power couple? The rumour mill is running wild with news that this summer’s hot hook-up was between none other than CUCS president Arthur Pendragon and BlastSoc president Merlin Emrys. Pendragon is better known as the son of former President of Albion, Uther Pendragon, whose anti-magic laws were seen as draconian by sorcerers like Emrys. Could it be that opposites attract?
> 
> Our source, who would like to remain anonymous, told us they saw Pendragon and Emrys at the coffee cart near the Castle, acting very cosy indeed. “They weren’t even being discreet about it,” our source told us. This has left us speculating whether this newfound friendliness will last. Pendragon has agreed to drop his lawsuit against BlastSoc, which _Castle Talk_ ’s legal advisor called “a good idea, since you can’t really sue someone for being more interesting than you.”
> 
> So is this just amity between the two societies, or something more? We’ll wait until the relationship is Facebook official before we make any calls. Stay tuned for more updates as they occur, or follow us on Twitter at @CastleTalkLive.

Excerpt from _The Gossip Pages_ (online content), _Castle Talk_ , 10/9/16

* * *

[10:03:51 PM] merlin: [Screenshot_2016-09-10-10-03-01.png sent]

[10:03:59 PM] merlin: lmfao castle talk

[10:04:17 PM] Arthur Pendragon: I’m suing for libel

[10:05:18 PM] merlin: cant really sue someone for being more interesting than u arthur

**Author's Note:**

> (Morgause's surname is taken from her father, Sir Gorlois. I mean, it could be a family name, right? The Isle of the Blessed is important to Gaius' plot, so I chose that as his surname. For Alice, I just picked something off a book I happened to be looking at. Sorry Alice.)
> 
> Please leave a comment! This is the first Merlin fic I've written in a good six years. Isn't technology amazing?


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